Posts
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Beneath My Fingernails
My fingernails are dark from what is beneath,
their edges dripping like claws, like
slaughter fresh from the battlefield, like
the kind of oil spill that stains the sea.
My nails are dark, and black, from -
golden boy
you know, i always thought he had it easy. compared to me, anyway. like, think about it. our parents weren't planning on two kids, they only wanted one, and they had this big dream of the perfect kid. the kind of kid you see on television.
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between the pages
make an art out of the space between the pages
behind the lines, in the crook of climax and falling action.
it is not so bad, being invisible.
you will never weep for a lover, a parent, a sibling, a friend -
a reason to stay
i take the joy in the little things
moments easily forgotten
but i cling onto them with the desperation
of a promised salvation
because they are, they really are, -
today
today, i drop a blueberry on my bedsheets
and watch as it stains,
a blotch of dark bruise-purple
that doesn't come out no matter how much i
scrub.
today, my father remembers a me -
can't you save us?
the kid who sits behind you in class says, "i really should just kill myself,"
and each time you say, "please don't,"
and you try to joke about it, the two of you, because it's a game, isn't it?